Settling
by Drakonflight
Summary: A series of one-shots on the Bats' daemons, and when and how they settle.
1. Bruce

When Bruce fell into the forgotten well as a child, the bats terrified him. But the most terrifying part was Acacius becoming a bat, flying around him and warding off the others. Inside the swarm there were long moments when Bruce lost track of which bat was Acacius, and in those moments he felt completely isolated. Acacius stayed a bat, dipping in and out of Bruce's recognition, until help came.

As his father carried him back to the manor, Bruce cupped Acacius, now a mouse, in his hands and whispered to him, begged him to never again become a bat.

Acacius looked at him for a long moment, blinked, and then huddled against his chest. "I'll try, Bruce," he whispered. "I promise I'll try."

* * *

><p>After the pearls fell and the heavy footsteps faded, while the red pools grew and the daemons dissolved, he clung to his parents hands. He sat there and wished they would wake up and take him away from this horrifying, lonely place once again. But they didn't wake up. The world had stopped making sense, Bruce realized, just as it did years ago when he couldn't find Acacius. Only this time it wasn't going to start making sense again. Where was Acacius now? Bruce wondered dimly. Had he disappeared again, hiding as a bat? Bruce could faintly hear bat wings as he knelt over them, but dismissed the sound as a memory.<p>

"You aren't alone, Bruce," came a whisper, and the flutter of settling wings. There was a weight on his shirt, and small, sharp claws piercing through to scratch his skin. Slowly he brought a hand up and laid it against the weight on his shirt. There was soft fur, and Bruce glanced down to see a bat clinging to him. Dimly he noticed the bat was covered in blood as well now, from where it had stained his hands as he clung to his parents.

"You're a bat," he whispered, hand frozen on the creature.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Acacius replied.

"No, it's not your fault. I wasn't alone in the well. You were there, protecting me, even if I couldn't see you. Now you're still here, and I can learn to see you. We'll be alone together."

* * *

><p>Acacius clung to the roof of the car and watched Bruce disguise himself. A minute before Bruce was done, he rolled down the window, and Acacius slipped out into the sky. Their tether had stretched as a result of their training abroad, until they could be miles apart without feeling any effects. There were no limits on their lack of proximity now, according to the one who showed them the rite. So Acacius rose on the wind until he could see all of Crime Alley, then swooped down and around Bruce as he exited the car, memorizing his appearance for the night. Bruce did not react to him, or track him with his eyes, but Acacius knew Bruce knew exactly where he was. That was the first promise Bruce had made good on, to be able to see his soul in the darkness. Now he would fight crime, and bring reason back to the world. Acacius knew it would never end, but Bruce was determined. He was determined.<p>

* * *

><p>After the fight, Acacius watched with concern as Bruce stumbled out of the car and towards the door. He managed to open it and Acacius started to swoop through when Bruce shut it. Acacius reared back, flapping his wings to stop his momentum and keep from crashing into the door. Being away from Bruce would not harm either of them like it would most people, of course, but Bruce was hurt, and Acacius needed to get to him to make sure he got proper medical attention.<p>

So he turned, and flew around the manor until he spotted Bruce through the window in the study. He rammed the glass. It was old, and shattered easily. They would have to rectify that throughout the manor, Acacius thought absently, as he landed on a bust of Bruce's father and studied his patient. Bruce was bleeding badly, and needed immediate medical aid. He had tried to hide it on the drive back to the manor, but Acacius had deduced as much anyway. What drew his attention was the twitching of Bruce's left hand, which held a bell.

Acacius sighed, and with a flutter of wings he crossed to the desk and shook the bell in Bruce's grasp, ringing it until Alfred and Aldreda arrived. "Help him," Acacius said to the man and English pointer daemon. "Our work is just beginning."

* * *

><p>AN: While _Batman Begins_, _Batman: Year One_, and _His D__ark Materials_ do not belong to me, I have always questioned the bat breaking into Bruce's study when it does. It just seems a little outside the realm of the plausible. This is my explanation on the _why. _ Also, thanks to Blind Author of _Sherlock_ fandom for providing the original spark for this fic._  
><em>

These are going to be a series of one-shots, each focusing on one of the Bats' daemons settling. They're not going to be in any sort of chronological order, and will probably appear as I finish them and feel like posting. Please review!


	2. Cassandra

The first time she killed, she learned two things; she saw death, and she understood the depth of the bond between human and daemon. She knew that each human had an animal companion they cared for. It showed in a subtle turn of the body, a constant awareness of the other's position. But she did not understand that their lives were linked, that killing one would kill the other. She did not know what killing was until she ripped a man's neck out and watched _shock_ and _disbelief_ and _horror_ as he fell. And then _nothing_ and his daemon burst into aether at his side. Suddenly there was warmth and softness huddled in her arms, one that she clung to as she stared in horror at the thing she'd done.

And then she ran. She embraced her soul, clutched it to the thump-thump in her chest, and shielded it from the world. Outside she ran, past buildings and people and _noticed_, until she was lost in the wild with sand under her feet and the desert wind whipping through her hair and the sun blinding her with heat.

When she stopped, panting, claws and beak attacked her arms until she reflexively pulled away, releasing her thrashing captive. Out of her arms flew a rush of feathers that gained altitude until her head spun as she tilted back to watch it circle overhead, the sun's glare keeping her from seeing more than a silhouette. Then it dived, and she was able to make out yellow-rimmed black eyes staring at her, then gray-and-white wings flared and yellow feet spread black talons.

The next instant claws impacted with braced arms and a beak screeched in her face, until she brought her arm parallel to the ground and her attacker settled, ruffling feathers and walking on her arm. She waited, arm braced and legs steady, until the bird returned her stare. She tilted her head, waiting for the bird to shift. Instead it reached out and snapped at her nose.

She pushed her arm outward, the motion rote from deflecting a million strikes, and the bird protested as it flared wings and beat the air, establishing the altitude to dive in, claws just brushing her hair before it was up and gone again. She crouched, eyes squinting as she tracked the shadow in the sun. When it circled back around she stepped and twisted, foot swinging up to meet claws that pushed off before rising once again. As they fell into the rhythm – swoop, strike, block, rise, circle, and swoop – she knew that, together, they were strong enough to survive.

A/N: For any authors looking for a challenge; write a story where the only character has no understanding of or experience with language. I think I passed the challenge here, but please review to let me know if I have. Cassandra is one of my favorite Bats, and I hope I've done her justice. Also, Cass's daemon is a peregrine falcon, the fastest animal on the planet, capable of reaching in excess of 200 mph when stooping (diving). I thought it fit.

-Drakonflight


	3. Tim

When Tim stirred, half an hour after his parents had sent him to bed, ten minutes after the garage door had closed, Nefertari opened a lazy eye. Tonight she had honored the origins of her name, and was curled up as an Egyptian mau on his bed. A lazy yawn revealed sharp fangs before she asked, "Are we going out tonight?"

Tim nodded as he got out of bed and began putting on dark clothes – not black, but dark, so that he wouldn't stand out as a silhouette against the night skyline. Nefertari stood and stretched, front legs extended before she rolled forward and her rear legs ran parallel with her spine. Then she leapt down from the bed, maintaining the form of a cat. She'd done that a lot recently - take feline forms - and Tim knew she would settle soon.

"There's a new Robin," he replied, picking up his camera and turning it on to check the battery.

"We don't know it's a new Robin. His daemon could have just started preferring larger forms."

Tim shook his head. "We both know that's not true, Nefer. You said yourself that the first Robin's daemon had settled as a bird. We never got a clear picture of it, but it was something in the apodidae family.

"And this new Robin's daemon is partial to larger forms, usually in the canid family."

Nefertari flicked her tail at him as she passed him before leaping onto the window sill. "True. But we don't _know_ his daemon was settled. Something could have happened to shift his daemon's preferences."

Tim paused. "That could be true." Though the implications of that violent a shift . . . well, Tim was glad he'd found out what he had, and could put that possibility to rest. "But Bruce Wayne formalized the adoption of one Jason Todd today."

Nefertari stilled, looking at him with slitted green eyes. "You're sure?"

"It was in the newspaper."

"And everything in the newspaper is unquestionably veritable," she said wryly.

"I'm pretty sure we can trust it in this instance," Tim said as he climbed out the window and waited for her to shift into a white ferret and climb onto his shoulders before he began climbing down the house's exterior. Normally, he would have just walked out the back door if his parents weren't home, but the housekeeper had been muttering earlier about dust in the china cabinet, so Tim knew she wouldn't be leaving for hours yet.

He landed with a soft thump on the ground, then kept low as he skirted the light from the windows on the ground floor and ran for the woods behind his parents' mansion. After pushing himself past a layer of undergrowth he straightened and jogged down a faint trail that ran parallel to the Drake estate until it intercepted the road. Tim turned from the path a few paces before the road came into view and shifted a cover of branches and leaves to reveal his bike. He walked it to the road and, after glancing both ways and listening for cars, swung up and started pedaling towards the lights of Gotham.

Tim reached Gotham over an hour later. At least these trips into the city kept him in shape, he thought wryly as he hid his bicycle behind a dumpster. The thing smelled like it had recently been the unfortunate receptacle of several drunkards, and hopefully the smell would keep anyone from investigating. Tim wrinkled his nose in disgust as Nefertari shifted briefly to a crow to hover around Tim as he climbed a fire escape up to the roof and then shifted into a black alley cat to keep pace with him as he scrambled across rooftops to where Batman and Robin _should_ be swinging by on patrol in roughly half an hour, depending on crime. Enough time to get settled with his binoculars and camera.

His thoughts were suddenly derailed by a violent yank on his collar and the fetid stink of intoxicated breath from behind him. "Look whah we got here, Abidemi. A runt runnin 'round on rooftops. Just like 'em, 'em bats . . ."

Tim risked a glance around at the pause. The man was obviously intoxicated, and seemed to be struggling to regain his chain of thought. There was no sign of Abidemi, the man's daemon, and it may have passed out in response to the man's intoxication. Then Tim spotted it, and swallowed. It wasn't unconscious. It was a bit unsteady on its feet, but the crocodile seemed fixed on Tim as it stalked forward, mouth hanging slightly open and revealing jagged pointed teeth as its tail swung slowly behind it. Tim had seen videos of crocodiles before, in Discovery channel specials, but they never seemed so _large_, and Tim swallowed as he remembered watching crocodiles lunge out of the water and clamp onto their victims' necks before pulling them back into the water to die.

A glint of metal caught in Tim's peripheral vision, and he refocused on his human assailant just in time to dodge the swipe of a knife the man had evidently pulled while Tim had been transfixed with the crocodile. Then he grabbed the arm still attached to his shirt, reached back to stomp on his assailant's foot while turning slightly to put his shoulder under the man's arm as it went briefly slack at the pain in his foot. He twisted the arm so the joint was facing up, then pulled past the point the ligaments could stretch until he felt and heard a snap. The man howled in pain and retreated, swinging his knife wildly while his now incapacitated arm hung limply. The crocodile moved forward to snap a warning, but at that moment a snarling "ROAWR" came from overhead and a black shadow fell on the crocodile, fangs snapping for purchase on the neck while claws raked along thick skin, trying to keep the crocodile from turning and using his own jaws.

Tim leapt forward and with a sweeping round kick, knocked the knife out of the man's hand. He immediately brought his other foot in low, hooked it around the man's ankles, and pulled the man's feet out from under him.

"Nefertari!" He called as he scrambled away. The black panther gave another of those horrifying cries, showing vicious inch long fangs, before turning and running. She shifted mid-leap into a lighter cat, and kept pace with Tim as they clambered back to the bicycle. Tim had to unzip his backpack so Nefertari could wiggle inside, since she just shook her head when he told her to shift, but then they were biking, and soon they were in better neighborhoods, and eventually across the river and into the upper class residential area. When Tim tumbled off his bike, shaking from adrenaline, he was barely alert enough to recognize that he had somehow made it back to the path behind his house. He picked up his bike and wheeled it into the shadows, where he covered it in underbrush. He yanked his backpack off and ripped the zipper open to see shocked golden-yellow eyes with blown pupils.

"You alright?" he asked, lifting her out of the bag and setting her gently on his lap. She was too large to be a housecat, but he easily recognized her as another member of the family _felidae_.

"I'm good," she whispered, then shook herself and ran a paw over her face several times before continuing. "It's just - I froze for a second. I turned back and saw the man holding you, and froze. But then he swung at you, and I could move again, but there was a crocodile and you were already busy. So I moved behind it and struck. I didn't pounce – I wasn't a kitty-cat playing a game, I was a predator and I struck, fully intending to maim, to hurt, to even kill," she paused and took a breath. "I don't want to kill, Tim. But if you were in danger, I think I could. And that scares me."

"I know," Tim said. "The crocodile froze me. It was only the glint of that knife that broke me out of it. But you didn't do anything wrong, Nefer. We were attacked, and we defended ourselves. We didn't kill anybody. We broke bones and left lacerations, but we didn't kill. When we had the opportunity, we broke and ran. Any court would find us innocent. We both know that."

"Yes, I do. We always knew there was a risk. We decided to do this anyway. But still, now that I've settled, I think I want to learn how to fight in this form, without killing," Nefer said, looking at unsheathed claws.

"You've settled?" Tim asked, startled. He took a moment to look at her again. She was South American, of the genus _leopardus_, he realized. Recently, in anticipation of Nefertari settling, Tim had been doing research into the _felidae_, or cat, family. Taking in her relatively large size, Tim realized there was only one cat she could be. "You're an ocelot," he said.

Her ears perked and she started purring as she circled, examining her own coat and getting a feel for her size and movements. Suddenly she was up a tree, standing on a branch over Tim's head. "See you at the house!" she called, crouching low, before vanishing into the treetops with a distinct "mreow" of laughter.

Tim took a breath after zipping and shouldering his backpack, then took off after his beautiful, intelligent, ferocious, wonderful daemon. For now they would stalk bats and birds, Tim thought as he ran, until the day they caught up with their heroes. But maybe, somehow, through effort and determination and luck, someday they would fight amongst them.

A/N: If you're interested, go look up a panther's cry on Youtube. It's rather intimidating. Also, you wouldn't believe the amount of animal taxonomy research I had to do for this chapter. Probably as much as for the rest of this fic, combined. The next chapter should be Jason, since it's almost complete. Hopefully I'll post it soon, depending on how things go. I have a test on Monday that I'm not looking forward to. Ah, procrastination.

-Drakonflight


	4. Jason

A/N: Warning for excessive swearing since, well, Jason's mouth. Also, I'm sorry for the long break between updates. College controls my life.

* * *

><p>Jason didn't actually register whose car tires he was jacking until it was too late. If he did, he would have split. Some targets just weren't worth it. But it was dark, it was a car, and even if it looked a little weird, who gave a shit? The tires were quality, and would put food in his gut for a week. So Lysistrata shifted into a monkey – yeah, she still hadn't settled yet, though her preference for canines, especially wolves, was starting to creep Jason out, not that he'd admit it. Anyway, Lys' was a monkey, helping him unscrew the bolts, and they already had three tires tucked away behind some junk in a nearby alley. Wrap up number four, and they'd call it a night.<p>

Which was when _he_ showed up. Later, Jason wouldn't know whether to bless or curse his luck. Which could probably be said for most everything that happened to him after tonight. Getting caught jacking the Batman's car. Actually, fuck it, Jason's luck reeked.

Jason tried to run for it, even if he knew he didn't stand a chance in hell. Dimly, he could see Lys' shift into a mouse and break for refuge, but then there was a bat – no two bats, Jason registered, one holding Lysistrata in its beak, or mouth, or whatever, and another clamping a hand down on his shoulder and twisting his arm up against his spine. He twisted, kicked blindly behind him, and just plain squirmed, but couldn't break free. Finally, he just stood there panting, waiting for the pain to start. He was so fucked. Batman. Fucking Batman was real, and was going to leave him a bloody mess, if he left him at all.

"Well, get on with it," Jason ground out. The hand on his shoulder tensed, then spun him around to look up at his captor.

"Get on with what?" the form said, and holy shit, his voice sounded deep and raw, like someone who'd had too many cigarettes and a real bad night.

He snorted. "I jacked your tires. Took something that didn't belong to me. And everyone knows what you do people like that. Just don't hurt Lys', okay? She'll stay out of it."

"NO!" And suddenly Lysistrata was there, a snarling black wolf with yellow eyes, but Batman had moved. Jason thought he saw a flick of the eyes from boy to daemon, and then he spoke.

"I'm offering you two choices. Show me where the tires are, and I'll make sure you get some food and a bed tonight."

"And choice two?" Jason asked, tensing.

"I let you go, right now."

"No trick? No beating?"

"I don't hurt kids."

Jason snorted, and spit on the ground. "I'm no kid. Come on, the tires are this way. You better have some good grub, or I'm still splitting."

* * *

><p>She was a wolf again, Jason registered dimly, beyond the pain. Oh God, the pain, the all-consuming pain. Maybe Bruce would still get here in time. He had to hold out. But Lys' was whimpering, while that demon laughed over her broken, bloody form. He couldn't fight, not anymore, but he had to hold out . . .<p>

* * *

><p>When Talia first saw Jason, she knew something was wrong with him. Before he spoke, before he moved, she knew something was utterly, terribly wrong. "Where's his daemon?" she asked the Hand attending her.<p>

"There was no daemon when we found him, Mistress," her father's servant answered.

"Bring him," she said, turning away. "I'm taking him home. And destroy all evidence of his resurrection. Kill anyone you have to. Don't let the Detective discover anything."

"Yes, Mistress."

* * *

><p>When Jason first breathed, breaking the surface of the Lazarus Pit, he saw a dog beside him. Or maybe a really, really large fox? Jason didn't know what the hell Lysistrata was, but she was there, and they were both alive, and as soon as they were out of the Pit she was tackling him – holy shit, she was tall! – and licking him, and laughing, and Jason was rubbing her fur, and leaning close, and just breathing her in.<p>

She paused for a second, head tilted as if listening for prey in the grass. "I can't shift. I think I've settled."

Jason huffed a laugh. "Weirdest-ass way to settle I've ever heard of. What are you, anyway?"

Lysistrata shrugged, and turned to Talia Al-Ghul as she approached, studying Lysistrata intently. "I do not know your species. You may be some type of crossbreed, perhaps between a dog and a fox? I admit you are a novelty." She looked at Jason and Lysistrata both then, "though you are no longer bound by the laws of mortality. You have died, and risen again in the Lazarus Pit."

She turned, and began to walk towards a passageway. "Come. Much has happened while you were lost to the world."

* * *

><p>On his way back to Gotham, Jason made a pit stop in South America. Not because he needed anything – he already had training, and money, and intelligence, everything he needed to get through to Bruce.<p>

This was personal. Beside him, Lysistrata crouched, tracking the creatures in the reserve habitat. Jason turned to the tour guide – yeah, they were playing civilian, but it's not like they had an agenda, so why go to the effort of dressing up when it wouldn't help? This was personal, anyway.

"Those are maned wolves?"

"Yes, though they're wolves in name only. They're actually not in the same family as wolves at all, but rather thought to be descendants of the large Pleistocene era wolves . . ."

Jason listened to the guide talk, while watching Lysistrata watch the, apparently, not-wolves. Lysistrata was standing upright now, ears perked forward and eyes tracking two maned wolves as they chased each other around the enclosure. Abruptly she turned and tapped Jason on the leg with her head.

He raised an eyebrow. "Finished already?"

"We got what we came for."

"Alright then," he said as he nodded to the guide and headed for the exit. "To Gotham. We've got a clown to kill."

* * *

><p>AN: I've never read _Red Hood: The Lost_ _Days,_ which supposedly explains some of the events around Jason's resurrection (I disagree with some of them, anyway, and they don't fit with my head canon for this universe), so I just based this off of what I know. If you have a disagreement, please review or PM me. I love getting any and all feedback on my stories! Anyway, I think this story will have at least two more chapters, depending on my inspiration and time availability. -Drakonflight


End file.
